


Accidents Happen

by halcyonwhispers



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, T for karkats mouth, Tumblr Prompt, katnep - Freeform, nepeta is a sweetie, xphantomhive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonwhispers/pseuds/halcyonwhispers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your face flushes pink after glancing at your ankle, at the start of the swelling and bright purple appearance of the bruise.  </p><p>You sprained your ankle from falling off your bike because you were ogling a short, angry ginger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidents Happen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xphantomhive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xphantomhive/gifts).



_Nepeta: Go get your cat._

First off, you are, so stop demanding it already.

You grumble under your breath, thinking up a mental note about nagging Equius taking the car on the day you need to pick up your pet cat, Pounce, from the vet. However, the thought of your cat softens your hissing mood and instead of feeling further annoyed, you put all the energy into pedaling your bike.

As the series of apartments and rental houses pass by in a blur, you wonder how many people are suffering from yesterday’s partying this early Sunday morning. College was practically what you always imagined; it’s the actual school part that put a damper in your life. But no matter, after you graduate next year, your internship with Doctor Scratch will be waiting and you’ll be one step closer to your dream job.

Twisting the handles on the bike, you take a turn, and speed up more. Apparently, after waking up earlier than usual doesn’t always mean beating the traffic. You showed up with cars zooming in the lines and whole groups of morning people either jogging up and down the sidewalk or zombie-like honor students sulking behind baggy clothes to their early classes.

Not interested in getting cursed at for riding in between people or dying in the street, you take a detour that would take you 15 more minutes.

The morning was not going well so far. First you had to wake up so early, only slipping on Equius’ old jacket before getting out the house, and then you had to wait even longer to see your cat. Poor Pounce has been parted from your arms long enough, three days, and while Equius doesn’t say it, you know he misses the little guy. Even when your kitty likes to swat all the nuts and bolts off of his work table.

You start to hum to try to pass the time, smile under the layer of chap-stick you slipped on. Your roommate should be home around noon from his robotics meeting, so it would be the perfect time to get something to eat! You quickly start to think on the nearby fast-food places when you suddenly hear it.

It’s a distinct screaming and shouting, and for a disturbing moment, you whip your head around, almost expecting a murder victim out in the open. It takes another moment for you to realize it’s coming from ahead of you.

You squint, reaching a hand up to pull your green beanie lower on your head.

The house would’ve been normal in any other situation. In any other situation, you would’ve ridden by it without a glance, it was just another rental house, a duplicate of the others lined up on the street, probably stuffed with three or four students.

It has a small yard with two lawn chairs casually sitting on. It was simple.

But it this situation, where there were bundles of clothes draping over the edge of the low roof. At least 20 shirts, fancy dress-shirts and Ts, are flung all over the roof and right there in the middle of the lawn, staring up at the roof and screaming bloody murder, was a short guy.

Even from the distance, his red hair was blaringly obvious, a very unique color that was redder than the typical orange hue of gingers. It reminded you of high school, where you were still in your art student phase and tried to dye your hair every shade on the color palette. But as your current profession calls for some seriousness, you’ve dyed it back black.

He was yelling obscurities that would’ve made Equius flood a stadium, and waving his arms around frantically, cursing some guy named John.

Yet (oh yes yet) it isn’t because of that why you’re staring in an daze. This guy...is adorable. And shirtless. Which must be why he’s freaking out over the loss of his shirts. He’s only in gray pajama pants and oh my god. You squint more, leaning forward, vaguely remembering to pedal as you come closer to him. He has freckles on his back. You can see the splashes of darker pigment on his skinny, pale frame, and your heart feels like it’s going to burst and you’re going to die right there, in front of Mr. Cutie and his cute red hair and his cute skinniness.

He’s yelling like no one is around and he should’ve been right. It’s 8 in the morning on a Sunday. Who gets up this early? You thank whoever is watching over you that you took that detour and managed to see him, and oh, maybe you can find out who he is later. Maybe you two have a friend in common and maybe you two can be introduced and maybe—

You’re about to pass in front of him! (!!!!!!!!) Ok, you’re on the other side of the street, but it’s still technically passing in front of him! Even though he has his back to you, which gives you a perfect chance to further gawk at him.  He looks red in his cheeks, like you do after working out at the park, and _wow_.

You feel very shy and this isn’t like you and you wish you didn’t feel so awkward but he looks like a little, angry tabby kitten and judging from his height, which is _your_ height, you could most likely pick him up and carry him around for while.

He’s still shouting about John and then the name Dave is joined in and no matter how much he tries to jump to grab at a shirt at the rim of the roof, he misses by a couple of inches. This seems to make him angrier and he turns around, maybe about to take one of the lawn chairs to give him some height, he sees you.

His brows are knitted together and there’s a bandit mask of freckles around his eyes and cheeks. His eyes look dark from here; although you really wish you were closer to see what color they are... Then he lifts them upward to meet your own pale olive ones and you can’t pull away.

Your heart skips a beat because it slams into you that he’s looking at you. Your lips twitch and your hand pulls away from the bicycle handle to give a weak wave. Then, just as suddenly as his attention lands on you, your panic shifts to confusion, watching his eyes grew huge and a choked mess of words leave his mouth. But you don’t hear that.

That’s when your world literally tips over.

The world explodes in pain and your vision turns black for a second, and the next thing you know, you’re laying on the sidewalk, your fallen bike next to you as a testament of your thirstiness.

Now would be the perfect moment to die.

You try to sit up, biting the soft inside of your cheek at how much your side and shins sting. That’ll be a bad bruise later, but for now, the pain isn’t excruciating. You’ve once broken a leg after falling out of an oak tree when you 13, and then when you 18, you bruised three ribs during a kick-boxing match. It takes more than an uneven sidewalk to take you out.

“Hey!” It’s a familiar voice now, scratchy and emotional.

You look up and see the red head making his way towards you, still shirtless and red in the face, making his dark freckles stand out even more. Self-consciously fixing your hat, you croak out a “Hello.”

“Holy fucking fuck!” You can tell he likes talking with his hands. “Are you ok?! I could’ve almost seen you breaking your fucking neck! Jesus fuck.” He bends down next to you, his fingers hovering over your body, like he isn’t sure if you’ll break if he touches you.

“I’ve told the fucking college to fix that shit sidewalk, but no, they need all our tuition money to wipe their brown-nosed asses then laugh at the goddamn entertainment we provide them every time a poor sucker wonders by and almost cracks his head on the pavement!”

 He’s raving, hands still over you, the expressive aspect of his tone increasing with each passing second.

He’s worried about you.

It shouldn’t make you as giddy as it does, because seriously, it’s something small and insignificant, but still.

You timidly wave off his lingering hands, stuttering over your words now that you know for sure he’s listening to them. “I’m fine! I’m _really_ much stronger than I look!” You jump to your feet, trying to prove your point when you almost collapse under your body weight.

Your right ankle feels like someone started to chip at the bone with a stake and hammer. You don’t whimper out like you want to though, Mr. Cutie is looking at you. Your face flushes pink after glancing at your ankle, at the start of the swelling and bright purple appearance of the bruise, knowing that you are, in fact, not fine.

You sprained your ankle from falling off your bike because you were ogling a short, angry ginger.

“Um...” you start, “I think I sprained my ankle.” This embarrassment will never leave you. Then, just to double check, you lightly put some pressure on your foot.  You only have a second to smother the curse word that leaves your mouth.

“Shit. I- Uh. I can take you to the hospital?” He must realize it sounds like a question because he clears he throat and says, “Of course I’ll take you to the hospital.” You want to argue and tell him he doesn’t have too, but you know you won’t get to the next block without getting your ankle worse, so after pause of silence more painful than the actual fall; he awkwardly grabs your arm and leads you back to his house.

He opens the car door in the driveway and helps you in. You stay there sitting, unblinking about what the hell just happened. You’re...honestly not sure if this was a bad thing or a good thing hidden in a bad situation. Fate plays with people like cats do to their food.

And yes, you believe in fate. You’re a hopeless romantic, piss off.

You feel your back pocket for your phone and thankfully, it’s completely undamaged as all the impact was on you. You text Equius the situation and ask him to met you at the hospital.

Glimpsing in the rear view mirror, you see the short man stand up your bike and steer it over to his front pouch. Leaning it behind a large potted plant; he stares up at that one shirt dangling a few inches above his head. Yet instead of jumping again, you can see a tick in jaw and he rushes inside the house. He comes back wearing a large blue shirt with bolded black words saying, “I’M NOT GAY BUT MY BOYFRIEND IS.” It basically falls off his shoulder. It’s clear the shirt’s for someone taller (then again, that could be anyone), someone not as thin as he is.

The fit looks so hilarious and endearing on him, you’re not sure to snicker or to squeal.

“It’s my fucking roommate’s shitstain shirt,” he gripes once he slams the driver door closed.

“John...?” you can’t help but ask, the ends of your mouth curling up.

He backs out of the driveway, and glowers at nothing in particular; cheeks alight with the rush of new blood.

“He thinks he’s such a fucking _funny_ prankster, the slob. He and his boyfriend thought it would’ve been _hilarious_ to toss all my shirts on the roof for no _fucking_ reason.” He growls. “Bitches.” You really shouldn’t find that cute, if someone did that to you would’ve punched them, but on him, it looks... magnetic. Maybe that’s why they did this.

You’re smiling either way, and you start in with, “My name’s Nepeta. Thanks for helping me out. I guess I got- distracted over—”

“My ability to spew toxicities over the douchebaggery that plagues my existence day in and day out? Argh, forget it. Karkat Vantas, and it’s my fault anyways, or rather my idiotic roommate and shitty boyfriend’s.”

Karkat? That name...

“Wish I could say something about bad roommates but the worst mines ever done was break the remote control during an episode of WWE.”

“Did they get carried away watching it or something?”

You shake your head even though his eyes are on the road. “I was and then we started to argue if it was appropriate for me to watch at all. Then he just reached for it and _snap_.”

Karkat raises a brow, mouth still twisted in that scowl. He mutters something you can’t hear. “I’ll come back for your bike after we get this settled.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at knowing you might see him again. Even the pain in your ankle doesn’t seem to ache as much.

But something’s bothering you.

 “Do you know a girl named Terezi Pyrope?”

He glances at you, surprised. “Blind girl majoring in law?”

You grin, sticking together all the bits that you know with the ones that you’ve seen firsthand. “So, you’re ex-boyfriend Karkat.”

Groaning some, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me that batshit crazy girl told you anything about me.”

“We had freshmen chemistry together and sorry to say... she had a lot to say. We go out every now and then to hang out.”

“Fuck. Don’t care what she had to say. Our relationship was shitty even when I pretended it wasn’t. I wouldn’t go down that path ever again.”

You hum, thinking out loud, “She did say all your relationships were shitty.”

“Did she actually tell a stranger my whole fucking love life without my knowledge? No offense, Nepeta.”

“It’s fine. I think she just did that because she knew I wanted to be a marriage counsellor. I always had a nack for those kinda things.”

“That’s...actually not a stupid career path...  John is going for a degree in biology and Dave, his boyfriend, is going to be a film director. Good fucking luck with that if you ask me. They both have the attention span of a flea on a dog.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Your major?”

He stops at a traffic light and looks at you. “Communication and law.”

Curling a finger over the longer lock of hair by your cheek, you smile, probably blushing, “It suits you, Karkat.” You mean it too.

He stares at your face like he’s really just seen you. Now you can see the color of his eyes, an old gray, like the color of smoke in midair.

Then, he snaps out of his gaze off of yours and the light turns green. “So what made you want to help shitty couples and their problems?” He’s not looking at her at all anymore and his voice sounds like he’s trying to be as loud as he was before.

“I was always a good matchmaker in high school, and it was like everyone in school would come to me for relationship advice, and I guess I just liked seeing how happy people were after everything was done with. And it didn’t always mean that the couple stayed together, but it felt amazing, giving closure to a problem,” you sigh, a bit happily, a bit sadly there.

Karkat listens, head even tilting towards you. “I never thought of it like that. I should’ve. I watch enough romcoms too know.”

That definitely catches your ear and you really do squeal here. “Me too!”

For the first time, his frown changes into an unused smile and for the rest of the ride, you two list off movies and all the parts that had you clutching your heart. Karkat starts ranting again about all the times people “give him shit” for liking them. Most people would’ve gotten tired of all of his commentary, but you nod along with him and even bring up other points.

“And none of my friends want to see them because they’re all ‘girly, cheesy, and stereotypical’, but love has many forms and if you’re so focused on only seeing one of them, then of course it’s just going to be stupid!”

The ginger next to you grins, and you see that his two front teeth overlap a bit, and the picture he makes is too dazzling for you and laughter explodes from your lungs.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling too much and you think he’s just getting started on this newfound friendship. Even going as far as to talk about his relationship with John the Roommate’s boyfriend, Dave, back in high school as he helps you into the waiting room. Since the two of you are the same height, it’s easy to sling an arm over each other’s shoulders.

“It was nice while it lasted but we were more each other’s security blankets than anything else. It benefited our friendship more than anything romantic that we had.” He helps you into a chair, saying he’ll be right back.

You wiggle your fingers at him, giggling to yourself, and suddenly remember Equius. You wince when you see all the miss calls and tons of texts on the screen. You hurry to call him back.

Its only when Karkat comes back from the desk with a nurse and wheelchair trailing him that you barely finish telling him which hospital you were talking about.

Your best friend arrives shortly but has to stay in the waiting room. As soon as he calls again, frantic over not seeing you, you ask Karkat if he could talk to him about what happened.

Overall, a doctor pops in for a few minutes, explaining from the x-ray that nothing was broken, and then the nurse takes over again to take care of your ankle.

By the time you come back out, an expert at the crutch, you quickly see Karkat and Equius awkwardly sitting next to one another. The bigger guy has a towel in hand, and if the coloring tells you anything, it’s half damp already with sweat. He had slicked back his hair into a ponytail but with all of the rush, locks of it fell into his face.

He’s two times Karkat’s size, and the difference shouldn’t surprise as much as how determine your new freckled friend looks.

“Nepeta!” Equius leaps up and rushes towards you. He stops and gingerly engulfs you in a hug. His arms are tree trunks around you. You want to tell him to stop, that you’ve had worse, that he kinda smells, but being there, as close as you are with him, you feel safe and warm.

Recalling Karkat comment about the security blanket feeling with Dave, she wonders if this is what he meant.

“I called the vet. I will collect Pounce later today,” he responds once you two separate. You almost sigh. Pounce was in the back of your mind all day!

Equius stiffened then, “And I told the little man to leave, but he was sure you wanted him to stay as he was.”

All over again, Karkat looks like he’s about to blow up. To the person who could easily wrap a single hand around his neck, nonetheless.

“No, no! Equius, he helped me. I want him here.” Karkat raised his brows as your best friend’s lips turn into a line. He slides his glasses further up his nose.

“Understood...  I will handle the means of payment.”

Not feeling like arguing, you watch him sulk to the reception desk.

“I wasn’t sure if you really wanted me here, but anything to piss off that—” You glare, telling him to think first. “Guy.” He ended lamely, but you smile nonetheless.

Karkat moves to fix the droopy shirt at his collar. “Why wouldn’t I want you here, Karkat? Besides my ankle, you were the best thing ever!” You sound childish but at the moment, you could care less.

He colors dramatically because of his pallid skin. You wonder how it feels to have skin light enough that would spill every feeling you had. You silently thank you mother for the darker side of the Spanish genes.  

“I’m not the type people like to have around,” he murmurs, but you hear it clearly.

“I love having you around.”

“...thanks.” 

“If you didn’t think I did, then shame on you, Karkat! You have to make it up to me by watching that new movie with Brad Pitt with me.” You’re all nervous all over again and your heart starts to beat harder.

Ok, so you like him, but you also like _who_ he is, and you want to know more and see where that could take you two.

Karkat smiles, like he’s trying not to do too hard. But quickly tries to look nonchalant. “Y-yeah. I mean, yeah.”

“Purfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this suddenly out of nowhere, so sorry for misspellings and ooc moments.
> 
> Also for the wonderful xphantomhive who adores katnep and hope you like this after i disappeared for a while ^^


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